


Cannibal Kunoichi Flytrap

by EvilFuzzy9



Series: Cannibal Kunoichi [4]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Cannibalism, Digestion, Don't Examine This Too Closely, Don't Try This At Home, F/M, Female Victim, Guro, Morbid, Rape/Non-con Elements, Snuff, Vore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 21:00:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5885014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilFuzzy9/pseuds/EvilFuzzy9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Konan has outlived her usefulness, and now she must be disposed of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cannibal Kunoichi Flytrap

Konan felt the teeth scrape her bones, a coarse tongue licking up the last lingering strips of meat and blood. Ragged scraps of flesh, shredded tendons, and assorted viscera were all that remained of her body—if you could even call it that, by this point.

She was burning up with an indescribable agony. It cut into her very soul, the excruciating memories of each individual bite that had been taken out of her seared irrevocably into the insubstantial essence of mind and self. She was aught but the least and meanest tormented shade, bound by tragedy or karma to her desecrated remains, forced by chance and cruel design to relive these final moments of her life again and again without end.

And it truly seemed like it would never end. She felt as though she were trapped in a perpetual cycle of agony and humiliation. She wanted to pass on, she wanted this suffering to stop. Nothingness, oblivion, and utter cessation of self seemed like they would be kind fates in comparison.

But such an end did not come. She continued to exist, to think and feel and suffer through constant recollection of this torture, of her death, of the events which had led her to this miserable doom.

Again, she remembered.

Again, she lamented for any hope of escape from this ceaseless nightmare.

* * *

Tobi looked down on the body of his vanquished foe with a scornful glance. She lay on her back in a rain puddle, tresses of navy blue fanned out around her head, the black fabric of an Akatsuki cloak soaked and clinging tightly to her curvaceous form.

Her eyes were wide open, staring up at him with just a hint of fear.

"Wh...Why am I still...?" she whispered, her voice hoarse and her breathing ragged. Blood flecked her lips, a black rod jabbed through her gut. "This... This is different from Nagato's..."

"You should be dead," Tobi drawled, his voice dripping with condescension. "By all accounts, you already are. But these rods do more than just scramble chakra."

Konan glared weakly, forcing her pale and lovely face into a twisted, angry expression. Her chest heaved, an ample bosom rising and falling within the confines of her cloak. Were Tobi not so singularly devoted to his ultimate goal, and so presently disappointed with the woman besides, he might have found the sight of her lying helpless on the ground like this to be terribly arousing.

She was gorgeous, make no mistake. But she was an idealistic fool, a traitor whose life would serve no further use. She and Nagato were hopeless dreamers, and in the end they had chosen to abandon Akatsuki's mission when it was so close to fruition. They had allowed the kyuubi jinchuuriki to get away—no, more than that, they had turned their backs and let him be. Nagato _gave his life_ to revive those he'd killed during his invasion of Konoha, seemingly in penance for perceived sins.

Useless.

Madara-sama had been mistaken, entrusting his rinnegan to that one. Nagato should have stayed alive and carried out his orders. He should have been loyal to the death. Had he given his life at all, it should only have been at the command of his lord, "Madara Uchiha".

But no, he had thrown in his lot with the Uzumaki lad, that Naruto boy.

Tobi frowned behind his mask. He would need to deal with the Uzumaki on his own time, soon enough. That young man was far too similar to what he had once been... he could not let it be.

"You've bound my soul, then...?" Konan murmured, her expression pathetically defiant as realization dawned, interrupting her foe's train of thought.

"So I have. Yes, you will not expire yet. Not until I've had my use of you, at least," he blithely responded, a creased and sallow face visible behind the cracked portion of his mask.

Konan paled, though she did well to show no other outward signs of fear or trepidation. She was an excellent kunoichi, cold and ruthless when she had to be. But at the same time she was, like her late partner, too sentimental and too naive by half to survive in this cruel, uncaring world.

The rain came down, falling all about them in a ceaseless, burbling prattle. The flow of water coursing ever on to lower ground sounded in their ears.

Tobi crouched low, a sharingan raking dispassionately over Konan's form. He grabbed her by the wrist and held her with a tight grip. He smiled, despite himself, at the way she bit her lip and struggled not to flinch.

"I'm not going to rape you, if that's what you think," he told her as their surroundings began to swirl and distort. Space wrinkled and twisted around them, Ame no Kuni fading into a black void.

For a moment, Konan looked almost confused. She did not dare to be hopeful, but in her present situation she could not conceive of many fates worse than what Tobi— _Madara_ , as she knew him—had just dismissed.

Despite this, there was no small hint of dread in her eyes, and he could very well see that she was grimly bracing herself for whatever might come next.

With a dark, humorless chortle, Tobi curled his fingers around the sleeve of Konan's cloak as they entered the extraspatial dimension of his particular ocular prowess. The sky was black and endless without light, yet the ground beneath them was visible, and he could see what things were there to be seen.

Fabric rippled and fluttered over Konan's body, before beginning to twist and spiral impossibly. Like fluid going down a drain, her clothes vanished, seemingly sucked into Tobi's eye.

He cast them out through space and time into the gray and dismal Land of Rain, into the puddle where she had previously lain. He then took a moment to appreciate the view before him.

Blood pooled around the black shaft piercing Konan's abdomen, pale skin starkly contrasting with the dark red fluid. A lean waist coiled with sinuous, wiry muscles. She was no slim waif, but a woman who had taken the training of shinobi deathly seriously. She was powerfully built for someone who almost never engaged the foe in direct hand-to-hand combat, and despite her beautiful face and voluptuous figure, Konan was far from just eye candy for the boys.

But she _was_ beautiful, there could be no denying that. And she was voluptuous, also.

Tobi had seen larger breasts and wider hips, but only rarely, and never so close as this. Her bosom was supple and firm, large and creamy tits weighing ponderously upon her rib cage. It was probably hard to breathe with those huge sacks of flesh lying on her chest, and if she couldn't produce milk from those big, puffy nipples he would be _astonished_.

Konan may have been powerful and dangerous, but lying there at the brink of death, robbed of all dignity and strength, she looked now like aught but a slutty cow built for breeding and fucking.

He felt an erection stir within his trousers, a reconstructed manhood reacting mindlessly to the view of the woman's naked form. He licked his lips and smiled darkly, appraising Konan's gender. She was smooth shaven, a neatly trimmed pubic ruff the only hair south of her eyelashes. Her sex was red and puffy, silky folds peeking out from betwixt slick labia.

It seemed arousal had gripped her in the throes of fear, though she refused to show or act on it.

Tobi smiled, looking at a gold ring which pierced the woman's clitoris.

"Yes..." he murmured after this lengthy silence, leering haughtily at Konan's naked form. "It is a shame, and a loss, but I do not intend to rape you. Betraying Akatsuki lost you the chance for that _honor_."

He said this last word with a sneer, sarcasm dripping from his tone, yet a gleam in his eye belied the twisted, mocking sincerity behind his statement.

Konan grimaced. If she were not immobilized by the chakra disrupting rod, she doubtless would have tried to cover herself—that, or attempt to fight him yet again. But that rod was also the only thing still binding her consciousness to this ravaged body, her soul to this corse else robbed of life. This utter spiritual paralysis was the only thing preventing her from giving up the ghost, the only thing keeping a semblance of warmth and sensation in her pale flesh.

"D-Damn you..." she whispered.

"You no longer have the power to say that," he smartly, patronizingly replied, "O fallen angel, fair and pure, how sad to know... damnation, your fate."

Finishing this impromptu, taunting haiku, he stroked her cheek and bent low. His remaining sharingan bored into one of her golden eyes, and Konan shuddered as her visage turned a furious, yet oh so enchanting shade of red.

"What... are you... planning to do to me, Madara?" she asked, steeling herself despite the weakness of the flesh. She cooled her anger and indignation, meeting his condescension with an icy façade. Labored breathing made it difficult to speak, but she managed through stubborn determination.

"To see you disposed of, naturally." He adjusted his mask. "The same as we dispose of anyone whose corpse might prove inconvenient, if discovered."

He looked down, staring towards her in the same way someone might glance at a piece of garbage on a public street. Distaste was evident, but it was uninvested and detached with no emotional weight. A cold shiver ran up Konan's spine, and she forced herself to meet his eye. She looked at him, but he didn't look at her.

He looked down in her direction, but he did not look at her.

"Kill me, then, and be done with it," Konan said with a glower, refusing to play along with this sick little game any longer. She may have been defeated, she may be lying helpless and naked at the feet of her enemy and former master, but she still had her pride as a shinobi.

Tobi laughed.

"Oh, you are going to die, to be sure. But not so quickly, no." He sneered one last time. "Treachery such as yours deserves a _proper_ _reward_."

He grabbed her once more, and their surroundings blurred yet again.

They reappeared, a moment later, in one of the organization's hideouts.

Konan looked up into the eyes of Zetsu, the most enigmatic and least truly human member of Akatsuki. Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach as the full realization hit.

Tobi turned and walked away at the same time that Konan began to futilely struggle anew.

"Goodbye, old friend..." he drawled, "...and good riddance to bad rubbish."

Zetsu smiled and licked his lips. The petals of a giant venus flytrap spread around his form, a dichromatic body split down the middle in black and white with hair of green. His cloak opened, and he leaned over Konan with an unnatural grin.

Tobi—Obito Uchiha—vanished in a swirl of his kamui.

Konan felt stiff with dread when Zetsu wrapped his arms around her, the visible white half of his face twisting obscenely as his mouth opened to let out a tongue that laved itself disgustingly, invasively over her throat.

He licked her neck, and a shiver raced down her spine. Reflexively, Konan tried to pull away, but it was a vain effort. All she could do was lie there helplessly as Zetsu smacked his lips on the crook of her neck, lewdly licking and tasting her throat.

A perverse hardness pressed between her legs. Zetsu's figure was deceptively fit, toned and muscular in a way that could, with the aid of mild genjutsu, convince most androsexual individuals to try and get in bed with him. That was usually the last thing they ever did, though, and Konan knew it.

His makeshift manhood ground against the lips of her pussy, a black hand grabbing her ass while a white one groped her tits. He kneaded a fine posterior, digging his fingers therapeutically, teasingly, arousingly in the tissue of Konan's buttocks. He rubbed her nipples, first one then the other, squeezing and rolling ample globes of flesh in his palm.

Kissing her neck and rubbing his dick against the lips of her pussy, Zetsu exuded a tantalizing scent. Konan whimpered, smelling a tangy musk and a sweet, earthy fragrance. Beads of sweat dripped between her and Zetsu's forms. She could see glimmering pearls of fluid trickle down his skin, a honeydew that enhanced the view of a chiseled back.

He smelled delicious, arousing, ungodly tempting. Against her better judgement, Konan spread her legs and bucked her hips, arching her back and biting her lip as she longingly ground herself against Zetsu's hardness. This was how he trapped his prey. This was how he drew them close and kept them in his deadly embrace.

Konan melted despite herself, feeling all resistance fade away at Zetsu's masterful touch. Her mind was numb, her eyes glassy, her tongue lolling out. Moisture seeped from a burning cunt, shivers and electric jolts arcing through her skin. Her bosom heaved, slick with a mixture of sweat and nectar, Zetsu working the milky flesh like a baker shaping dough.

Her body lifted off the ground, and the petals of Zetsu's carnivorous flower closed around her, around _him_. Darkness, a verdant and veinous gloom enveloped them. She felt him push into her sex, and all thoughts of escape or resistance swiftly and immediately departed.

It was... magnificent!

She forgot the rod in her gut, the pole melting into the blackness of Zetsu's right half. She forgot the doom Madara had pronounced, the fell certainty of her death and digestion. She willfully cast aside all thoughts of fight, of flight, of ever wanting anything but this.

Zetsu's perilous perfume filled her nostrils as clear juices dripped from the insides of his petals. His erection stretched out the walls of her pussy, filling her up with a glorious length and thickness, a sensation she had nearly forgotten in the many years since her former lover's death. His hands stroked and fondled her body, working up and down her voluptuous form with a care and reverence for which she had so long and dearly ached.

Konan's skin burned from within, the heat of her arousal setting a lewd and voluptuous body aflame. Her breasts mashed against Zetsu's torso, a large tit deforming salaciously in his hand. Her thighs sandwiched his legs, wrapping around him and pulling his loins up towards her, greedily taking his hard cock up her burning slot. Shivering, shuddering, moaning, writhing, Konan felt her back press to the inside of Zetsu's petals, his hand pinching and parting her voluminous ass cheeks.

It burned from without where her skin touched his petals, the juices they secreted seeping out over her form. It was an agonizing pain, excruciating and horrible, yet all she could think about was the excitement between her legs. His cock filled her up and made her feel so much pleasure that she did not want to think about anything else. She did not care how much pain she suffered, as long as she got to have this cock...

His phallus was addictive, an instrument of distraction and enchantment. She was enthralled by his erection, a slave to the base instincts his hardness stirred within her belly, the mindless impulses provoked by the pheromones which filled the air, close and stuffy.

Konan could hardly breathe in here. It was suffocating, smothering, drowning and burning and breaking her to pieces as his pelvis smashed against hers in a constant and unending rhythm of yes, yes, YES! She was dying, she _knew_ she was going to die, but she didn't care about living if death felt like **this!**

Zetsu continued to lick and suckle on her neck, occasionally teasing her skin with sharp canines. He nibbled on her flesh, making her moan and shudder and come a little bit. He bumped her ass against the inside of his petals and worked his juices into the meat of her massive whore tits, grinding his cock inside her pussy.

"Yes... oh, yes, yes! Fuck me, fuck me, ffffuck me!" Konan groaned, crying out as the pleasure surged through her, excitement coursing in her veins. "Zetsu... Zetsu-sama, fuck me! Rape me to death! Eat me alive!"

Her mind was lost to the spell of his perfume, the scent of his flower smoothing out any troublesome, unnecessary thoughts in that pretty little head of hers. Zetsu's pheromones filled her nostrils, wrapped her brain in a hazy shroud of mind-numbing arousal.

"Zetsu-sama! Zetsu-sama...! Yes, oh fuck me, yess!" Konan hissed, feeling the burn in her skin grow sharper, hotter, more and more sublime.

His acid was coating her, a thick sheen of fluid clinging to their bodies. Konan was soft and tender, her skin visibly rosy and painfully sore. Doughy flesh overflowed in Zetsu's hands, her ass and tits looking and feeling wondrously appetizing as the digestive juices softened them more and more, a little at a time.

Zetsu licked his lips and lifted his head to kiss Konan on the mouth. He felt her come explosively at this gesture, her pussy clenching and powerfully squeezing his rigid shaft. It was a pleasant sensation.

More importantly, though, it triggered one of his most clever adaptations for digesting these silly, sex-obsessed people.

Zetsu came, his seed a gout of acid shot directly into Konan's womb. He flooded the woman's pussy with special digestive fluids, and her eyes bugged out of their sockets.

Konan screamed, and this time it was no longer in pleasure.

Zetsu had her right where he wanted her, and he no longer needed to keep her pacified. She was too weak to escape now, even if she wanted to, and judging by the way she thrashed and howled and clawed at his petals, she most certainly did.

The effects of his pheromones were washed away by the wave of fire that passed up through Konan's body, dispelled by pure agony. Damnable clarity seized her in the moment of realization, and she struggled anew.

But it was too late.

Zetsu bowed his head and opened his mouth. He kissed the small of Konan's neck, laving his tongue over soft and spongy flesh while the woman tried in vain to escape his embrace. She wriggled and writhed, trying to tear her ass and tits out of his grasp, her neck away from his mouth, but it was hopeless.

He bit down.

Konan's screams were cut off. All that came out of her mouth now was a weak, gurgling noise.

Zetsu yanked his head back and swallowed the mouthful of meat, crunching bits of bone between impossibly hard molars. Konan's own head listed gruesomely, ill supported by what remained of her neck, and acid trickled down her exposed gullet. Shuddering breaths escaped, the last heaving motions of her chest, before the final death rattle came.

Her eyes stayed open, but her body ceased moving. He'd removed the paralysis, but that no longer mattered. Physically, Konan was dead and could do no more one way or the other.

Konan was dead... but she was still aware.

She could still feel EVERYTHING.

Bound to flesh as it continued to dissolve little by little, structural bonds weakening under a chemical onslaught, Konan wanted to scream. Her soul was anchored in place, death insufficient to divorce her from the carcass she had once inhabited. She felt _everything_ as Zetsu continued to molest her, coaxing her meat to further soften and disintegrate.

His teeth scraped her breasts. He licked up pearls of sweat and acid from the pillowy, spongy mounds. Konan felt shivers wrack her mind, an excruciating awareness gripping her as he closed his mouth and bit through one of her nipples.

It was with a sharp pang that she felt his incisors shear through her flesh, and a moan wanted to bubble up at the sensation of him rolling the severed nipple in his mouth, tasting it thoroughly before mashing it between his molars.

Konan wanted to cry out, but she had no mouth.

Zetsu dug into her breast, burying his face in her cleavage and taking a grotesquely large mouthful of meat into his mouth. His canines dug in with ease, gripping the doughy tissue as he yanked his head this way and that, tearing the flesh away with a savage motion. He gulped it down greedily, like an animal, gnashing his teeth and shredding her tits.

The pain stabbed through again and again. She felt him bite through her flesh, and she felt him chew the meat he tore away, and she felt him swallow it, and she felt it when it began to further digest in his stomach. She felt everything in every part of her body, complete awareness of her members whether they were whole or mutilated.

Zetsu crudely buried a hand in the gaping wound in her chest, thrusting into the ragged wound on her tit. He reached inside her breast, clawing vulgarly through the dissolving fat of her bosom, seizing hold of the milk gland within and giving it a sharp yank. He tore the mammary gland out of her breast, and Konan desperately wished that she had teeth to gnash, tears to shed, a voice with which to howl out her pain.

But she did not. Her body was not a part of her any longer, even though she remained excruciatingly conscious of everything that happened to it. There was no distraction from her pain, no endorphines to numb her senses, no nerve endings to sever or block. It was raw and direct, pure agony removed from any physical coping mechanisms.

All she could do was endure it and suffer as Zetsu tore into her, devouring her bite by bite with a morbid rapacity. All she could do was bask in the pain and go slowly mad as he gulped down mouthful after mouthful of her bloody, soggy meat. All she could do was sink into despair with no hope of escape as her body was consumed, and digested, and ripped into shreds.

She was dead, but still aware. The end of her life had brought her no escape from the pain, no cessation of torment. No, indeed, rather it had worsened her ordeal immensely, leaving her utterly helpless, completely defenseless, unable to do anything but suffer and suffer and SUFFER as she was eaten.

Konan prayed for it to end, but it continued inexorably. Her womb was molten fire, pure agony in a lake of salt, scorched and melted and reduced to a slurry of liquefied flesh and pain, pain, PAIN. She was oozing and dripping, more fluid than not as Zetsu continued to feast. He did not even bother with her softer tissues now, her body so tender and insubstantial from the acid.

Her ass dissolved and crumbled. It broke apart at a touch, lumps of melting fat and soggy skin floating in a lake of acid, fibrous strips of muscle clinging by tenuous sinews to exposed bones. Her breasts were barely anything, aught but a few lingering hunks of meat and gristle dangling from her sternum.

Zetsu dislodged another of Konan's ribs, tearing the bone from her body and stripping the meat away. It was so tender that it melted quite literally in his mouth, separating from the bone with only a slightest prompting. He gulped her sweet, savory flesh down with a predatory relish.

Konan felt this, the pain great enough to have made her black out were she still alive. It washed through her, a cruel and unceasing awareness of every fiber of her carnal vessel, and again she despaired of ever escaping this fate. She could not thrash or writhe or scream, she had no means by which to express or alleviate her suffering. All she could do was endure without end, grimly and miserably absorbing every second of this torture into her immortal soul.

It was never going to end. Even when nothing remained of her body, it would continue. Even when all who lived in her time had perished, it would continue. Even when the earth was dust and the stars had all dimmed, her torture would continue.

This was her hell, and she would suffer it forever.

Zetsu devoured her. His feasting ended in no time at all, in the grand scheme of things. But she continued to feel the pain etched into her soul, continued to relive her death and consumption over and over without end.

It continued forever, unceasing torment. Even long after she forgot all sense of self, after madness had shattered her mind, after she had faded to nothing but the faintest echoes of the tiniest whisper, it continued.

Konan suffered.

Forever.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Kinda stretching canon with Zetsu's nature here, but I remember back when his cannibalism/human-eating was the only thing fandom knew about him.
> 
> Though now that I think about it, he never really did that again after the first time, did he...?
> 
> Also, spent a ridiculous amount of this one setting up the vore, and the ending is easily one of the cruelest I've ever done, haha. This fic is actually straddling the limit of how gruesome I can comfortably write, for sure, and it honestly crossed that line more than a couple times in the early stages of writing.
> 
> Cooking them first feels less... grotesque, somehow. XD
> 
> Updated: 12-19-15
> 
> TTFN and R&R!
> 
> – — ❤


End file.
